Each and every time there is a beautiful woman close to influence (a Sarah Palin, a Carla Bruni, a Michelle Obama) I wait with heart-stopping trepidation. It is only a matter of time until she appears to spend too much, to do something outside some unwritten norm, and she is called a Modern Day Marie Antoinette.
You can’t imagine how tiresome this is to me. I’ve been dead for more than 200 years but I still have feelings. As you can imagine, the association is never positive. The lady is usually stylish and attractive, thankfully, but all the other connections are odious. And frankly, a little uninformed. I admit I spent my share. I admit I wasn’t perfect, but I find it a lark to be accused of overspending by an era that loves luxury as much as I did, or by America, a country whose independence is indebted to…
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